Star Trek: By the Hands of the Prophets
by Grand Admiral Harmon
Summary: Ten years after the Dominion War, Sisko returns with a warning that coincides with the sudden silencing of listening posts in both the Delta and Gamma Quadrants. Contains both Deep Space Nine and The Next Generation characters.
1. In the Presence of the Prophets

Chapter 1: In the Presence of the Prophets

"The Sisko is of Bajor."

Like a memory of the past the voice spoke it. Benjamin looked around him, trying to find the voice. He was alone, alone in a world that was completely white world. But, it wasn't white exactly, it was light. Blinding light.

"The Sisko is caporeal."

He looked around, trying to see anyone, but, in a wink of an eye, he was in New Orleans, right outside of his father's resteraunt. No, it wasn't _Sisko's_. It was a memory, the building and surrounding areas an odd mix of hazy orange and black. He hadn't seen this in a while. He only experianced this type of sight when he had visions.

"The Sisko is leaneur."

He was suddenly on Deep Space Nine, his old position. He was on the promenada. He could not see anybody, and the only room he could see was the temple. Only that room was lit, the others dark, forbidden. He slowly walked towards the room, feeling a little comprehensive. But, he was still for the most part calm, unconcerned with anything.

He stepped up the two steps, and passed under the arch. Upon passing it, into the small entrance, the door vanished behind him. Odd, he thought, he had never been closed into a room before in any room or any part of any vision. He walked into the main chamber, really not a chamber, more like a meeting room. A place to worship.

And still, there was no one.

"The Sisko is of Bajor."

Benjamin looked, trying to find the Prophets. Or someone in vision. He turned to leave, and he was blocked from leaving the room by a wall of hazy darkness. He turned around, and saw to his surprise, Kira Nerisse.

"Colonel?" he asked, then caught himself and said, "Prophet."

"The Sisko is needed," the prophet said, pointing to the orb of the temple, set in middle of the room.

That was out of place, Ben realized. If this had been an accurate representation, it would have been in a small alcove on the far side of the room surrounded by a force field. It had been the place Jadzia Dax had been killed.

"The Sisko is hesitant," the Prophet said, then suddenly, appearing on the other side of the orb, was another Prophet, this one assuming the likeness of Jake, his son.

"Why?" he asked, in the simple and straight forward manner accustomed to the Prophets.

"Why have you called me here?" he asked, looking from Prophet to Prophet.

Another one appeared, this one looking like the Ferangi Quark. "The Sisko is aggressive."

"Not really," Ben shrugged, "I just want to know what this is all about. That's all."

Another one came into view. This one took on the form of the Klingon Worf, "There is danger."

"Danger?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The Sisko is of Bajor."

"The Sisko is caporeal."

"The Sisko is needed."

"You have already said that," Ben said, walking in a circle, and gasped when he saw a line of Prophets, or maybe they were actual people in the vision, suddenly explode into view. Thousands. No, it was millions. No, it was billions. No, more then billions, so many he would never be able to count them all. He was certain of that much.

"The Sisko must know the Fate," a small woman Prophet said, this one Sarah, Benjamins' mother, "If he knows, he will avert it."

"The Sisko is of us," a Prophet, one whom he had never seen said, walking out of the wall, "If he goes, long it will be before he returns."

"The Sisko is of the Federation," Sarah said, "He must know."

"The Sisko would leave," the Kira prophet said, "Perhaps never return."

"Much sorrow will come if he knows not," the Quark said, "Allowed to choose he must."

"I would appreciate you being straight forward with me," Ben said, "You are never open with me. I am still caporeal. I value my thoughts and opinions."

"Agreed," the Prophet said, "Let him see the Fate. Then he can choose."

The people began to vanish, locusts swarming them. First by ones, then dozens, then hundreds, and again by thousands they were devored instantly, leaving only bones. After a short time, there were the hazy forms of millions, though maybe three fourths of them had been devored.

They came forward, their bodies changed. Many had eyes replaced by mechanical devices that shown forth red lights. Tubes protruded out of them. Thier skin, hazy before hand, was now almost undestingishable from the metal skin that covered their bodies now. They looked, almost like Borg to him.

They were then replaced by a vast expanse of space, he could see every planet, star, nebula, asteroid, moon and every other phenomenon in the Alpha Quadrant. A planet here or there was dead, but, for the most part, all were vibrant and rich. Then, two swarms, one of metallic locusts, another of purplish locusts more aggresive then the others, came from different directions.

They sped so fast that everywhere they passed, it was immediatly laid bare. Nothing grew behind them. Before long, a few planets remained. Almost inperceivable nudges were given to the swarms, attempts he assumed to hold the locusts at bay. But, it was too much for them. They were all destroyed.

Suddenly the orb was again infront of him.

It swung open on its own accord, the room blazing in white light outlined in blue.

"Remeber," Sarah said, "I will always love you, my son."

"Doctor, he's gaining conciousness."

"Good. His vital signs have stabalized. Neural activity is become improved."

The voices, though he could hear them, did not seem to come from any Prophets. There was a vibrance to them, a sense of urgance, confidence, relief that was characteristics not of Prophets, but caporeal beings. He could also discern what sounded like beeping.

He felt something press against his neck and also felt something being pushed into his skin. His ability to comprehend was improving. He tried now to open his eyes, and as he did so, his first attempt was unsuccesful. The lights were too bright, and he closed his eyes.

But, his eyes began to adjust and he opened again, and slowly the faces of the people came into focus. One was a woman, heavier set, in her late thirties. She was human, of copper skin. The other war a man, over forty he guessed. Tall, thick brown hair, eyes with drooping eyelids. Someone he thought he knew.

"Benjamen Sisko," the man said, leaning over him, "How are you feeling?"

"I feel okay," he said, the words sounding sloughish and weak in his own ears, "Is it you? Really you Bashir?"

"Yes, I am your genetically engenered friend," Bashir said, with a smile of obvious relief.

"What is the date?" he said, feeling content just to lay down where he was, "How long was I gone?"

"It is Stardate 63865.8," Bashir said, "You've been gone for over ten years."


	2. Reception

**Chapter 2: Reception**

"What am I doing here? How did I get here?"

"Just calm down Captain," Bashir said, pushing him back down on his shoulders. Ben had not even noticed that he had tried to sit up on the bed.

"Answer the question Doctor," Ben demanded, "Where am I?"

"You're on Deep Space Nine," Bashir informed him, with his close-lipped smile, "Even you should recognize the layout of my sickbay."

Ben looked around at the displays and the arched doorways. Everything was of Cardassian designs. How could he have forgotten that?

"I'm sorry Doctor," he muttered, "I guess even the Emissary isn't totally immune to the disorientating feel of coming to the corporeal state of being."

Bashir smiled as he nodded to the nurse, letting her know she wasn't required any longer. Bashir looked so different to Ben. Not physically. But, his bearing was not exactly the straight-backed young man that he had first met, nearly sixteen years ago.

Sixteen years. He could hardly believe it had been so long. Time had no meaning while in the midst of the Prophets. As a matter of fact, he could hardly believe it was ten years he had been gone. But, all he had to do was actually look at the doctor and notice that his hair line had actually receded by a couple centimeters. Something he would not have realized had he not know Bashir.

Bashir also walked with the slightest limp as he walked. It seemed indeed as if a certain deal of time had passed.

"So how did I get here?" he asked, voicing again his question.

"You just kind of appeared in the Bajoran Temple," Bashir said, "First Minister Shakaar was there, having visited the station and he was praying when the orb opened and you were...what was the word he used...'spewed' out."

"How long ago was that?" he asked, not very surprised that Shakaar happened to have been there.

"Three days," Bashir said, still looking at him.

"Is my family here?" Ben suddenly said, looking around with small jerks of his bald head, not seeing either his wife Kassidy nor his son Jake.

"I've already informed both of them of your arrival," he replied as if having anticipated, "Kassidy is currently making a cargo run with your daughter near the Badlands and Jake is on assignment for the Federation news to Cardassia Prime."

"I have a daughter?" Ben asked, his eyes widening in shock.

"Her name is Tennesa," the doctor said, "And yes, she's a very healthy and beautiful nine year-old."

"Tennesa," Ben said to himself. He liked the name. Very much.

"What about everyone else?" he asked, "Like Colonel Kira?"

"Kira's commanding the station," Bashir said, counting them off on his fingers, "She helped usher in Bajor's admission to the Federation. Worf is still the ambassador for the Klingons. Miles is at the Academy still, teaching Engineering."

"What about Nog?"

"He's chief engineer of the _Enterprise, _under the command of Admiral Jean-Luc Picard."

"What about Quark?"

"He's gone to Ferenginar to be Rom's Financial Advisor. He would have stayed, but, I guess it's not good being the brother of the Grand Nagus. More than five times someone tried to kill him the first two years after his brother ascension."

Ben sighed. "I actually was looking forward to seeing Quark."

Bashir actually laughed out loud. "I know," he said, "After he left, it hasn't been quiet the same around here."

"And Dax?"

Bashir broke out in a huge toothy grin. "We are married," he said, "She's right now stationed on the _Defiant_ with Worf."

Ben thought it all in his head. So many things had changed. He doubted Odo was here and Garak, if anyone could survive, it was him.

* * *

Kira Neyrs looked up from the datapad she was looking at, to see the old familiar dark face. The uniform of a captain didn't quite fit in with the new uniforms of captains, which had changed just a year before. But, beyond that, the way he walked, his hand movements, everything was exactly the same.

"I see you still have my baseball," he said.

"I couldn't exactly throw it out," she smiled and rose from her chair to hug the man, standing a little taller than herself, "Welcome back Benjamin."

"Oh ho ho," he said with a deep chuckle, "I see I'm no longer 'Captain'."

"Don't play all proper with me," she said, pulling back from the embrace, "You've been gone ten years, and besides, you don't outrank me anymore."

"Oh really?" Ben raised an eye.

"I'm Captain Kira," she proudly announced, "of Starfleet."

"Sounds pretty important," he said in mock amusement.

"I was given the title for finalizing the admission of Bajor into the Federation," she said, not expecting any praise for it.

"Still yelling and vedics?" he asked, and she threw a shocked look at him.

"I don't yell," she retorted, "I just voice my opinions with a loud voice."

There was a silence that followed. It wasn't invoked, but, she had a lot to think about just then. Something that kept bothering her.

"Odo?" Ben asked quietly, clearing seeing her mood.

She smiled half-heartedly. "I've thought of moving on," she said, "But, I can't bring myself to it. He's most likely never coming back but, I don't know."

"The hardest thing is to leave those you love out of your heart and mind," Ben said, and for the first time, Kira knew someone actually understood her.


	3. Dilemma of an Expert

**Chapter 3: Dilemma of an Expert**

_"Captain Jean-Luc Picard, you lead the strongest ship of the Federation fleet. You speak for your people."_

_"I have nothing to say to you. And I will resist you with my last ounce of strength!"_

_"Strength is irrelevant. Resistance is futile. We wish to improve ourselves. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service ours."_

_"Impossible! My culture is based on freedom and self-determination!"_

_"Freedom is irrelevant. Self-determination is irrelevant. You must comply."_

_"We would rather die."_

_"Death is irrelevant. Your archaic cultures are authority driven. To facilitate our introduction into your societies, it has been decided that a human voice will speak for us in all communications. You have been chosen to be that voice."_

_Picard stood in front of what seemed to be a giant head. A head made of a vile combination of mechanic and organic materials. He was filled with a deep disgust, but before he knew it, he had changed location to onboard the _Enterprise_, Borg drones linked up to sleeper chambers. _

_In middle of the room, came the vile face of the Borg Queen. Slowly the body came forward, but, he did not recoil. He disgust slowly vanished with each step she took. He could not explain the change of emotions, but, each step she took, the easier he felt._

_"If it isn't Jean-Luc Picard," she said with a faint smile, "The Borg King."_

* * *

Jean-Luc snapped awake, bolting upright in bed. The movement had been enough to force the sleeping woman beside him to moan his name before falling completely back to sleep. He turned to her, reassured by the presence of his wife, Beverly Crusher. The only woman he had ever shared the special place his Ressikan flute.

He slowly stood up out of his bed, wiping away the sheen of sweat that glistened on his face. It had been so real, that even as he walked over to the bathroom so he could wash his face, he almost seemed to see the shapes of Borg that had vanished. Borg of the past.

* * *

"Admiral Picard," the curly-haired engineer said, flabbergast at the appearance of the bald man, "It's 400 hours. What are you doing here already?"

"I could ask you the same thing Mr. O'Brian," Picard retorted, "Don't you have classes today?"

"This is the only way I have any time to work on updating the schematics for the new ship design," Miles replied, "I guess you couldn't sleep?"

"I'm getting those dreams again," he replied, his voice quite, almost a whisper. Had it not been so early and only O'Brian and a couple engineers around, he would not have been heard.

"The Borg?" Miles asked.

"Yes," he muttered, "We must hurry. I feel something's going to happen. And soon."

O'Brian nodded slowly. "We still have maybe two weeks before this baby is ready for a test run," he told Picard, "I hope we can be ready for them."

"If you have anything to say about it," Picard smiled wryly, "We will be."

O'Brian chuckled. "Yes sir," he said.

"So," Picard said, gesturing to the data pad in his friends' hands, "What new updates do we need to do?"

"If this _Invincible_-Class is going to launch," O'Brian said, "We need to find a way to compensate for the power drain that is caused by us going to Warp 10."

"Have you figured it out? Picard asked, taking the pad that was now being proffered to him.

"I believe if we can find a way to even out the power more fully between the two halves of the ship," O'Brian said, pointing to a part of the schematic where there was a line showing the two halves of the ship, "We should be able to do so without too much power being drained totally from Section A."

"How do you propose that?" Picard asked, throwing a glance at him.

"By supplying all major systems with an individual power modulator," O'Brian replied, "By giving each major system an individual power supply, we will avoid losing all power and the risk of us being in a bad predicament during battle will drop."

"Make it so, Mr. O'Brian," he replied, giving an approving smile, "And now, I have to deliver a seminar to the Federation Council on the effects of the Collective link."


	4. Titan

**Chapter 4: Titan**

"Captain on the Bridge," the Ensign barked, and the crew arose to their feet in perfect military precision.

"As you were," William T. Riker said as he strode from the turbo to his command chair. This was a reality young crew, and he knew that sooner or later he would get down to the teaching them the nuisances of being on a starship.

The USS _Titan_, Riker's personal starship. It was no _Enterprise_, but, it had been a faithful ship. He glanced over at his executive officer, Christine Vale a human woman, and an original member of the Enterprise-E crew. She looked over from her chair and gave a quick smile at him, showing her exact thoughts on the newness of the crew to please.

"Helmsman," he said, turning his attention to the conn, "Set a course from Cardassia Prime. Warp 3."

"We're not going to investigate the Plasma storms in the Badlands?" Vale asked, turning to him.

"Just received orders to go to Cardassia Prime and pick up the Cardassian High Command," he said.

"Or the joke of it," she snorted.

Riker gave her a warning look. She was not to make light of the situation. Orders were orders, and Cardassia was going to be joining the Federation. All representatives were to be given the respect due them.

"Course set in, sir," the helmsman reported.

"Engage."

* * *

Riker hadn't realized it, but he awoke out of sleep, still on the bridge. He never remembered falling asleep and he turned to Vale.

"How long was I asleep?" he asked.

"Seven hours sir," she said, after checking her chrono.

"Why didn't you wake me up sooner?" he demanded, throwing a glare at her.

"We assumed you didn't want disturbed sir until we came upon Cardassia Prime," she shrugged her shoulders.

"You assumed wrong," he snapped, turning away, leaning heavily onto his right arm.

It wasn't like he was working late or losing too much sleep. Deana was pregnant, and she was having a hard time sleeping, but, she tried not to wake him up. He awoke on time every day. Why would he fall asleep? And on the bridge no less.

"Ensign," he called out, and the young ensign turned from his conn board, "What is our ETA to Cardassia Prime?"

"Two days and one hour," he replied, throwing a glance back at the board.

"I'll be in my ready room," he said standing, "Number One, you have the bridge."

Deanna, sitting by him, her mid section bulging, held back a chuckle. He turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

"Something wrong Councilor?" he asked.

"Right when you said that you did a very good impression of Picard," she said, throwing a smile at him.

Giving himself the luxury of a smile, he walked to the ready room.

* * *

Riker hated his dress uniform. He also despised Cardassians. Sometimes, he didn't know which one he hated more. Their sudden assistance in the late war had only been because the Dominion turned on them in their full fury. Not only that, but anyone who would torture Picard like that deserved their fate.

"The delegation is ready to beam aboard sir," the transporter chief, an elderly Vulcan announced.

"Energize," Riker commanded, loathing the fact that he had to give the order. But, he knew that appearances were everything. So, he put on his most diplomatic smile, and with a sound like whirring and tingling, three large grey skinned Cardassians were standing on the platform. Two were heavier set, and they flanked the skinner man, Legate Dummat.

Legate Dummat was an elderly Cardassian, nearing eighty. His shoulder length hair was graying, and his skin was wrinkled. He still had some spark to his step, but, he could see the older man's hand very slightly shaking.

"Welcome to the USS _Titan,_" Riker said, then waved his hand to his side, "I am Captain Riker and this is my first officer, Christine Vale."

"Riker," Dummat said, striding down to him and taking his hand in a heartfelt shake, "The prodigy of the Picard legacy."

Riker was at a loss for words at that. "I never have heard it quiet put like that before sir," he finally managed, "If you wish, I could have Ensign Carlson here take you to your quarters."

"Sounds lovely," Dummat said, "You know, the Federation will indeed benefit from this meeting. Both our peoples will. Why, I can't think of anything else that is more pressing. Don't you know? Of course you don't, how silly of me. Why, I admire the Vulcans and their logic. To bad they can't put it too good use. How long would you anticipate us reaching Earth?"

"Eleven days," Riker informed him, a little shocked by the scatterbrained endless stream of comments, "If all goes according to command."

Dummat nodded. "Back in my glory days," Dummat said, being swept along by his eager aides, "I was quiet a commander myself. Why, my ship, the warship Dulnarg was practically unstoppable. There was a time-"

The door closed and Riker sighed, rubbing his brow. "This will be a long trip."

"There is one thing that will give you comfort," Vale said, stifling a snicker.

"What's that?"

"Even his aides are hard put to it to keep up with his torrent."


	5. Deep Space 7

**Chapter 5: Deep Space 7**

"Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen…."

The words trailed off as Gordi La Forge, Commander of Deep Space Seven, walked over to the weights at the end of the gym. He needed to keep in physically fit condition, if not for his own sake, so he could be a bit more intimidating if the Romulans decided to come across the Neutral Zone. He looked at the rack and grabbed the seventy-five pound dumbbells.

He did five curls, feeling his muscles bulge. In some ways, seeing the moving of flesh and muscles gave him a sense of gratitude at his ocular implants, that allowed him to see the world as it was.

He was in middle of his fifth curl when his comm beeped and a man said, "Commander La Forge."

Gordi sighed, thinking _How did Picard do this everyday? I can't seem to get a second to myself on this station_. But, he still tapped his comm and said, "La Forge here."

"We have a visitor here to see you."

La Forge groaned. "Who is it?" he asked.

"They wish to remain anonymous until you arrive," came the reply.

La Forge's shoulders slumped. "On my way," he said, and reluctantly placed the dumbbell back onto the rack.

He hadn't even had enough time to sweat, so, he was able to change quickly before leaving the gym. His black uniform fit him like an old glove on a hand, and sometimes he felt like an old glove himself.

His last visitor had been a Romulan Senator who tried to accuse him of breaking the treaty. He had been able to prove himself innocent, but, at the same time, three Klingons had gotten very drunk, and believed they were fighting the Borg, and started rampaging all over the station. Only quick thinking and action had stopped them from breaking into the weapons locker.

As he strode down the corridors towards the turbo lift that would send him to Operations, he passed by the masses of people. As of today, there were three hundred workers, seventy officers, one hundred civilians and ninety crews from transport vessels that were enjoying a rest at DS7. DS7 was lightly armed, seeing that there had been little action in the sector of space, even during the dread war with the Dominion.

And, he hoped it would stay that way. Even as he moved along the promenade; crew members either greeted him or officers came rushing to him to ask for permission on just about anything. It took him ten minutes to walk the seventy yards between the gym and the lift.

Even as he got on and it rose, he was waylaid by a small child that had grown very fond of him. He barely extracted himself from her and walked as quickly as he could to ops. By the time he reached it, he felt mentally exhausted.

_I really need R&R_, he thought bemoaning to himself. He hadn't had one in weeks.

As he entered the office, the man standing there made him stop with surprised shock.

Standing in the office, gazing at the pictures of Gordi's family, was Captain Kevin Joseph Rasmussen the Fifth of the _Galaxy_-Class starship _Romania_. But, Rasmussen had died at the Battle of Cardassia. At least, his ship had gone up in smoke. He should know, he had been temporarily assigned to the _Akira_-Class _Doubtful_ at the time, right by the _Romania_.

"Captain," he nearly choked on the word with a surprising amount of emotion, "You're dead."

Kevin laughed, turning to him. He didn't even have any signs of battering.

"Forgie," he said, using his nickname that the cadets who had lived with Gordi called him out of affection, "I'm not dead. I'm standing right in front of you. It is good to see you too."

However, there was a false cheeriness to his words. Well maybe not a false cheeriness. But, he seemed to be trying to distract him. Distract him from what?

One thing did stand out like a warning siren. Kevin wasn't wearing his emerald ring carved like a dolphin. It had been a family heirloom, and Kevin was never parted from it. He believed firmly it brought him extra good luck. Kevin, if indeed he was Kevin he began to suspect, was not himself.

"Is this a social call or are you here one business?" Gordi asked.

"That depends on your point of view," Kevin said, another slight deviation from what he should have said. Kevin wasn't a man to beat around the bush at all.

Gordi decided he better find out if this was or wasn't Kevin. "If you're here to get me to go see Jorak's wedding, I told him I was busy. He'll have to do it without me."

"Jorak?" Kevin asked, "He says he's thinks you would benefit from the experience."

"I got you scumbag!" Gordi said, drawing his phaser out of his holster so fast that the imposter hadn't even had time to react, "You have twenty seconds to tell me who you are. So, I suggest you start talking."

Kevin seemed momentarily surprised. But, he made no movements to escape. As a matter of fact, he even slowly drew his phaser out of his belt and tossed it to Gordi, who only be experience didn't blast him immediately.

"Well, well," Kevin smirked with a small lip tight smile, "You are more dangerous and observant then we thought."

"We?" Gordi asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Have you ever heard of Section 81?" Kevin asked, "We are a secret branch of the military, which does not exactly report to Starfleet Command. We do what must needs be to preserve and protect the Federation."

"Who are you?" Gordi demanded, "Really."

"I am Terran," the man said, "One of its agents. And I must ask, how did you expose me? That was extremely fast."

"If you had been Kevin," he answered, still not lowering his phaser, "You would have known Jorak has been married for thirty years. I was also at Cardassia. I saw his ship go up in battle. There had been no escape pods."

Terran nodded approvingly. "Very interesting. Using something a person would know but twisting the details slightly to see if you could expose any deception."

"My optical implants also have the ability to tell when people are lying," Gordi said at which Terran rolled his eyes in disgusted realization, "You have ten seconds left."

"Alright," he sighed, "You have heard of the Betazid Wormhole?"

"Yeah," Gordi nodded.

"As you know," Terran began, "Six years ago it was found by Noppar Drone of Betazid. It goes straight to the Delta Quadrant. We've been able to expand our knowledge of the quadrant by seven percent since the return of _Voyager_. However, due to its tentative position near one of our greater worlds, we had to insure that no unwanted visitors show up without our foreknowledge.

"We positioned thirty listening posts within a million kilometers of the wormholes' entrance. We were pretty sure of ourselves. That we would know something would go wrong before it happened.

"However," Terran sighed, "Three months ago, within a week every one of the listening posts were silent. Not a single peep from the Delta Quadrant. However, Starfleet Command was quiet ready to give up on their endeavor."

"We put together a small Borg probe, commanded by four ex-drones. You do know one of them very well. Hue."

"Hue?" Gordi asked, "Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Terran retorted, "If it is Borg activity, they wouldn't be too suspicious if a Borg ship just happened to be in the area. But, they barely entered before they had to cut communications. And this is where you come in."

"What does this have to do with me?" Gordi demanded, rubbing the phaser with his thumb.

"You have a special connection with this group of drones," Terran shrugged, "And, with your optical implants, you have an advantage over us _mortals_. You can detect transwarp conduit activity. Is this intriguing to you?"

Gordi thought about it for a second. It _did_ appeal to him. But, what if this was an elaborate deception? Section 81. Who was he kidding claiming there was a secret organization in Starfleet?

But, what about Hue? He had helped Guinan, Picard, and others realize he was an individual. One that deserved life. What if he was in trouble? How could he turn his back on him? He owed him a debt of gratitude, for helping him see past his biased point of view.

"Are you going to shoot me?" Terran asked.

Gordi looked at the phaser, then at Terran. Very reluctantly, he holstered the weapon.

"Count me in."


	6. An Honest Criminal

_**Note: Sorry for the long update. I technically finished this story two or so years ago, but all my other stories have taken my time up. Thankfully, the new copy and paste system makes it easier to get these chapters uploaded.**_

**Chapter 6: An Honest Criminal**

Ambassador Worf, Klingon liaison to the Federation, sat on the high-backed chair, watching with deep brown eyes Admiral Picard. Picard had been an influential person in Worf's life. Had it not been for Picard, he never truly would have understood honor and integrity. Worf had been grateful for everything Picard had done for him.

"Miles reports that the _Invincible_ will be ready to launch in six days," Picard told him, "And so is the Defiant Mark Two. And if you were not engaged as an Ambassador and being captain of the _Defiant_, I would offer you the position."

"Thank you Admiral," Worf replied with a deep rumbling voice, "But, there is no ship as proven as the _Defiant_."

"Even more then the _Enterprise_?" Picard asked, raising a thin eyebrow.

Worf straightened defensively. "I did not mean it like that," he tried to explain, but Picard waved it aside.

"Don't worry Worf," he smiled slightly, "I understand what you were saying."

The door chime rang out, and Picard called out, "Enter."

The door slid open, and in walked the barrel chest figure of a man. Admiral William Ross, a veteran commander with many years of experience under his belt, he looked every part the commander who had been trusted over a decade before by Starfleet to lead the war against the Dominion. But, the years had been hard upon the Admiral, and his once thick dark brown hair was thinning and turning a metallic grey.

"Jean-Luc," he said in greeting, his hands clasped behind his back, "Worf."

"Will," Jean-Luc said with an approving nod, "Have a seat. I didn't expect you for another day."

"I was in the area," Ross said, tilting his head downwards slightly as he sat, "And decided that might as well check up on you. Anything worthwhile going on?"

Picard picked up a data and glanced at it, "I have been looking over the files of some canidets to command the _Invincible_."

"Have you found any potentials?" Ross asked.

"One stands out to me," Picard nodded as he handed the datapad over to Ross.

Ross took a glance and asked in disapproval, "Adam Tryke?"

Picard shrugged, "He was First Officer of the _Akira_-Class _Neldron_ during the war with the Dominion. He's fought in a dozen battles and fifty skirmishes. Six of them against the Borg. If anyone can fight the Borg, it's him."

"Indeed," Worf smiled fiercely, "A cunning warrior. We could indeed use him."

"Do you know his status?" Ross asked, ignoring Worf's comment.

Picard nodded, "He's unassigned at the moment."

"He's in the penal colony on New Zealand," Ross informed him, "You want to know why?"

Picard raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

Ross took a deep breath and said, "He struck his captain during a skirmish with a Borg Sphere during the first mission into the Delta Quadrant done by Starfleet after the Betazid wormhole was discovered. He knocked him out. He refused to resign from Starfleet, so, he's spending the next thirty years serving hard labor. You would be giving command of our top ship to a criminal."

"His past cannot indicate what he can accomplish," Worf pointed out, "Even Kahless was willing to allow warriors to fight even if they were beforehand dishonorable."

Picard also injected, "I have given my trust to men like him before; and I will admit, I have never regretted it."

Ross leaned forward and said, "I am doing you a favor by saying, give the command to someone who has a good track record."

Picard sighed. "We shall see."


	7. To Tame the Drunken

**Chapter 7: To Tame The Drunken**

Riker sat at his table in his private dining room. He loved the time he had to be with his wife, Deanna, as her due date was coming up shortly. He didn't know if he would have much time to do such stuff much longer without the interruption of children.

According to the ship's doctor, a Vulcan by the name of Toran, they were going to be having a son. There was a pot going around to see when exactly Deanna would give birth. All but twenty of the crew had already lost. And the remaining twenty were hording the next two weeks.

"How is Dummat?" Deanna asked.

Riker rolled his eyes. "For two hours he was with Mr. Tuvok, berating him for his lack of, what was his exact phrase? 'logical security on a ship full of illogical mortals'."

Deanna chuckled. "I bet that made him less then logical in his responses."

"Tuvok threatened to give him a Vulcan Death Grip if he didn't let him go about his business," Riker said with a wondering look, "Is that a logical response?"

Deanna shook her head, "It looks like Tuvok was about to lose it."

There was a beeping sound from Riker's comm badge and he tapped it. "Riker."

"Captain," Tuvok's voice came through, "We need you to escape pod 3."

"Are you planning a mutiny?" Riker asked, to which Tuvok said, "I assure you, if this was a mutiny, you would already be on your way with your saxophone. Why let that illogical music maker remain on board?"

Riker laughed out loud, "Don't know. What's going on?"

"The ambassador is trying to jettison himself in an escape pod."

Riker frowned slightly. "Do we even have that pod still?"

"No. We lost it near Bajor six weeks ago."

"On my way."

* * *

Riker approached the airlock, where three security guards and the ambassador's aides were standing in a crowd, trying to block off the escape pod entrance to Dummat. Riker noticed the glazed, unfocused nature of Dummat's eyes as he approached and Tuvok trying to reason with him.

"It is illogical to try to go out into the escape pod," Tuvok said, holding a hand out to try to reason with him.

"I can do vat I vant," Dummat slurred his words, and swayed as he pointed to the door (he was actually pointing to the floor).

"There is no escape pod," Tuvok reasoned, "Why go a place where you would die?"

"I can hold my bweath for thwee minutes," Dummat said, holding up one finger as he said three.

"Captain," Tuvok said, as Riker pulled up beside him, "It would appear as if our ambassador is drunk."

"Slobbering drunk," Riker muttered, "I can't see how he is still standing."

"Cappin!" Dummat shouted, swaying to Riker, "I wan a ezcop pad."

"I will deal with him," Riker said.

"Very good sir," Tuvok nodded.

Riker then smiled and put his arm around Dummat's shoulders. "I'll take you to an escape pod that works," he said, "You can stay in it as long as you want."

"Does it have wa-wa-" Dummat's eyes crossed.

"Warp?" Riker supplied helpfully.

"Tha's wha IO thad!" Dummat yelled.

Dummat then bent over and vomited all over the floor, some even spattering on Riker's boots.

"I thnk I need a dcter," Dummat weakly replied.

"Let's go see Doctor Toran," Riker agreed.

"I have one qu's'ion Cuptan," Dummat said as they walked away.

"What's that?"

"Your wiff. Will she marry me?" Dummat asked, as serious as a drunk man could be.

Riker raised an eyebrow in surprise. "She's already taken," he replied, steering him towards sickbay.

"Pity," Dummat said, "She's got a nice bum. Have you ever noticed that?"

"If anyone knows," Riker assured him, trying to figure out whether to take him seriously or not, "I do."

"She has vewy pwetty eyes," Dummat laughed, "And she has those very nice-"

He stopped again to vomit again on the ground. Riker could barely contain his laughter.

* * *

"Captain."

Riker slowly opened his eyes, muttering curses to himself. He looked at the chrono at his side. It was 3 in the morning. Come on, he thought to himself before tapping his comm badge on the nightstand.

"Whaizit?" he mumbled.

"What was that captain?" a now clear female voice said.

"What do you want?" he asked tiredly.

"We have a bit of a situation in the mess hall," the woman said, Vale he finally figured out.

"What type of situation?" he asked, "Is it Dummat again?"

"You better come see yourself," she said, stressing 'yourself'.

"Alright," he grumbled, "I'll be there in a second."

* * *

"Captain," a voice called out behind him.

Riker turned, and saw a dark-skinned Vulcan walking after him. "What's up Tuvok?" he asked, "I have something going on, and I need to get to the Mess Hall."

"I understand Captain," Tuvok said, catching up with him and walking beside him, "I also have a message from your wife."

"A message?" he asked, "Why didn't she just comm me?"

"Communications are down," Tuvok said, "But, your wife has gone into labor."

"Communications can't be down," Riker said, frowning slightly, "I just got called by Vale about a situation going on in the hall."

"That is not possible," Tuvok replied, "I was with her when she tried to contact you."

"We both can't be correct," Riker said back.

Suddenly they could hear shots being fired from the Mess Hall. They both at once ran down there, opened the doors, and watched as two masked assailants fled, leaving Dummat lying on the floor along with his aides. Tuvok rushed up and bent over, and put his fingers to their pulses.

Slowly he looked up, "They're dead."


	8. New Zealand

**Chapter 8: New Zealand**

Adam Tryke sat on his bunk in his cell, a long arm resting on his raised knee. His short blond hair made him look like he was losing hair, but, it was just thin. He had hazel eyes, his eyelids heavy from a lifetime of headaches and disappointments. His left hand was covered in a black glove; one which seemed to never leave his hand.

His cell mate, a human from Earth; Rio De Janeiro, Brazil if he remembered correctly, read a data pad in his hands. He was muttering as he read, but in the close quarters; it sounded like the man was talking normally. He was studying law.

"Do you think when I become prezident of the Federation?" he asked in his thick South American accent, "That I could make it zo we could get zome ice-cream in prizonz?"

"When you become the president," Adam said, rolling his head over to look at him, "You can do anything you want. Like wear a to-to."

The man chuckled half-heartedly then coughed violently. The cough was raspy and rattled. The man had been suffering from pneumonia for quiet a while, but, the doctors didn't seem to be in any hurry to cure a man who had murdered a Vulcan crew mate. And frankly, although Adam had extensive knowledge of nearly a thousand medical practices of a thousand worlds, he didn't really feel inclined to help him either.

An alarm sounded, and the force field closing the cell off from the hallway powered down. It was lunchtime; one of the few reprieves prisoners of their standing would have to go mingle among the other prisoners.

"Lorent," Adam said as he swung his legs over off the bed, "Don't give them any reasons to throw you into solitude. I would hate to spend the next forty days alone again."

The Brazilian smiled as he stood. "As long as they don't give me a reason too."

* * *

"Admiral," Warden Jarren smiled cheerfully as Picard strolled into his office. Jarren was Andorian, his blue skin and tentacles on his head setting him apart from other species, "I wasn't expecting you for another week."

"The _Invincible_ is going to launch in a week," Picard replied, "And I want to have enough time to see if Tryke is the man I want."

"I understand," Jarren said, "Lunchtime just began, so, if you want, we can observe him from my observation booth."

Picard followed him across the room to a small alcove, which bulged out over the mess hall. This room was covered in invisibility shielding, so they could easily observe the prisoners from below, without them seeing them. Prison guards walked around the room, holding phaser rifles in their hands, keeping stern watchful eyes on their charges.

The room was filling up quickly with prisoners, who would walk through a small cafeteria line down a serving table where several cooks slapped strange looking glop onto their plates.

"Which one is Tryke?" Picard asked, his eyes surveying hundreds of people from different species.

Jarren looked around, then pointed to a lanky blond-haired man walking with a tray to a table, a human in tow behind him. Picard watched them sit, and Tryke sat pretty straight in his chair, bending over only slightly. It seemed as if incarceration hadn't taken too much out of prideful bearing.

"He's a pretty quiet person," Jarren remarked, "He's never started a fight and keeps out of peoples way."

Picard didn't quite like that answer. He needed a fighter to command Invincible. Well fine, he thought to himself, he might not start fights, but can he finish them? He looked around and saw what he was after. A big Nausicaan sat a couple tables away, and he knew what he needed.

"You see that Nausicaan down there?" Picard asked, pointing in his direction.

"Who?" Jarren asked, then looked the direction indicated and nodded, "He's Garlek. Imprisoned for sabotaging a shuttle craft on the _Santiago_."

"Get him to fight Tryke," Picard said, and Jarren's jaw slackened slightly.

"Sir?" Jarren asked uncertainly.

"And give him double rations for the next week," Picard continued, "Make it worth his while."

"But sir-" he protested but seeing the look Picard gave took out a small device in his pocket, and typed a various set of commands, then noticing Picard looking at him, explained, "Garlek tried several times to escape. So, we use this to keep him here by typing commands into his brain so he doesn't make too much of a nuisance of himself."

* * *

Adam ate the food, wishing it was something worth eating. What he wouldn't give for a donut right then. Lorent seemed to be of the same opinion, as he sniffed disdainfully at it.

"You better eat," Adam told him, "You're really not well enough without eating."

"You know," Lorent grunted, stabbing his fork into the gloop, "In Brazil, we eat very well. Lots of fruits. What I wouldn't give for an apple right about now."

"In two days is roasted chicken," Adam smiled, "So, just think about that."

Lorent smiled and put the fork into his mouth. Adam looked down at his food, and would have continued, when a dark shadow fell over his plate. He looked up slowly, into the face of a massive Nausicaan glaring at him through small eyes and many teeth and horns.

"May I help you?" he asked, trying to be friendly.

"Fight me!" he snarled, clenching his fist and Adam heard the knuckles crackle in his fist.

"Why?" Adam asked, and slowly people stopped talking as the realized something might happen.

"So I can crush your skull with my hand!" Garlek hissed, placing his hand over Adam's head, trying to intimidate him by proving his hand could.

Adam swept aside the hand and said, "No."

The much larger Nausicaan glared. "Why not?"

Adam shrugged, "I have no quarrel with you."

"You must," Garlek hissed, "Coward!"

The word came out like a blast of cold wind. Adam felt his heart begin to burn, and rage formed up inside of him. Slowly he rose, and although he still was dwarfed by the brute, even the guards noticed something was going on and began to raise their rifles.

"You touch me again or call me that again," he warned, his voice calm but chill, "And you will pay the price for such foolishness."

In defiance Garlek did. Even as the word slipped out, Adam's hand shot out and caught him in the fork of the legs. Garlek didn't even have time to recognize he had been hit before a fist plowed into his kneecap, and there was a violent snap as his kneecap gave out. Adam shrugged and sat down again, as if nothing had happened.

Garlek was down on his knees but he wasn't done. Far from it. He grabbed Adam's arm and threw him over his shoulder into the nearby table, crashing into a Bolian that didn't have time to react. The Nausicaan began to rise, turning to Adam.

The human struck first, his fist plowing into Garlek's chin. Even as his head snapped back, his own hand struck Adam from the side of his head, sending him spiraling in place. Garlek recovered just as Adam clutched the table to keep from spinning and swung his fist down towards the human's back.

Adam spun away just as the fist made contact with the table and the edge bent slightly. Adam kicked as hard as he could. His foot made contact with his opponents side and the Nausicaan bellowed in pain and surprise.

Adam would have continued had not a stream of three phasers hit him all at once, sending him plunging into unconsciousness.


	9. Civil Duty

**Chapter 9: Civil Duty**

Benjamin Sisko sat across the table, watching Kassidy as she ate. It had been so long since he had cooked anything; but, from the looks of it; he still had his touch. She ravishingly tore into the chicken paprika, like a dog deprived of food.

A small smile came to his face. _My goodness_, he thought to himself, _she is so much more beautiful then I remember_. Indeed, the past ten years had been good to her. Her face was rounder; her eyes more kind. She also had softened around the edges, their child having done a world of good for her.

She glanced up and said, "You barely have touched your food Ben."

"I'm fine baby," he replied, "I'm not really that hungry."

"Hmm," she replied, standing up and taking both plates to the replicator, which recycled the energy from them and cycled them back into the system, "You know, I've gotten much better at cooking ever since our daughter was born."

"I had some two weeks ago when you returned from your cargo run," Ben acknowledged, "It's not Dad's by any stretch of the imagination, but, it's a world better."

They walked to the couch, and sat down together. She leaned forward and laid her head on his chest, and wormed her arms around his body. She was content. Content that her husband was home. Content that they could start up their life together again.

He was also happy, but not content. The vision still bothered him, and despite his ten year absence, he felt the call of duty. He had secretly called his old friend Admiral Ross, but hadn't yet received a call back. And that was a week ago. Whatever happened, he needed to be a part of it.

It wasn't only his Starfleet talking inside of him. It was the Emissary too. The two different sides talking, combining forces top get him back on the path. Into the action. It was his civic duty.

As they sat, a door to a bedroom slid open and a beautiful girl of nine years walked out, rubbing her eyes. It was late at night, 2300 hours, but Benjamin couldn't help himself from taking a sharp inward breath when he considered the child. She had flowing copper hair which went halfway down her back, curly and bouncy. Her face was narrow, with a small button nose.

"What are you doing up so late Tennesa?" her mother asked, sitting up a bit.

"I can't sleep," she moaned, "Can you sing to me?"

"Sure baby," Kassidy said.

Tennesa squirmed a bit. She shook her head and said, "I want Daddy to."

Kassidy's mouth dropped open. Was she really hearing this? "Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yeah," she replied.

"Come here," Ben said, beckoning her to him. The small girl walked forward sheepishly towards him. It wasn't that unexpected though. This was the first time she had ever seen her father in the flesh and it was a new experience.

But, she soon climbed up into his lap, leaning onto him, and he started to sing, in a calm soothing voice, a song he sung nearly thirty years ago to a much smaller Jake.

* * *

Kira Neyrs sat in her office; having slept wretchedly the night before. She had just learned that her godson, Kirayoshi was coming by for a week long visit. She had no children of her own, but, she had carried him for months when Keiko O'Brian had been unable, so, it made her as close to being his mother as even Keiko. She would love to have a child of her own, but, Yoshi would be more the worthwhile by himself.

The door chime sounded and she called out, "Come in."

A small Bajoran woman walked into the office and stopped three feet into the room. "General," the woman announced, "The _Titan_ is requesting permission to dock."

"Who commands the _Titan_?" Kira asked, spinning the baseball on the table around.

"Captain Will Riker," the woman smartly replied.

"Alright," she nodded, "Have them dock in Docking Bay One."

"Very good sir," the woman replied.

For a couple seconds she just stood there, like an android. "Dismissed," Kira rolled her eyes, having almost forgot just how blindly obedient the woman was. She couldn't do anything without orders. How easy it was when Ben was in charge around here.

The woman turned and left, the door opening and closing behind her. Kira leaned back and sighed. How she hated what she was going to have to do now. She touched a key to her console and a deep voice said, "Gul Dranket here."

* * *

Captain Riker strode off of the hatchway into the main corridor to the station, and he saw Doctor Bashir, a man he knew only by his picture. He flagged him down and said, "I need you to attend to my wife and baby Doctor. Our doctor was killed by assassins, and they were poisoned. I fear they have little time left."

Julian's eyes bulged in surprise. "Right captain," he agreed, "Where are they?"

"My Chief of Security here, will show you the way," Riker said, nearly shoving him into Tuvok, who led the doctor into the ship.

He rounded on Christine Vale who was standing beside him. "We need to get to Ops. Send a message immediately to Cardassia Prime about the assassination."

"There is no need Captain," a very large Cardassian said, striding up to the group through the crowd, two guards walking beside him, "We know about it."

"Really?" Riker asked, his eyebrows furrowing in surprise.

"Yes," the Cardassian said, "And in the name of the Cardassian Union, you are under arrest."


	10. Doctor Bashir, I Presume

**Chapter 10: Doctor Bashir, I Presume**

"Is she alright Julian?" Ben asked, standing next to the wall as the doctor sat, a tired; worn out look turning his kind face into a ghastly mask of death.

"I had to give her a sedative to stop her from committing suicide," he groaned, leaning back against the chair, letting his head lean against the back, "But, she's doing better. Good heavens, Captain. I can't imagine what it must be like to lose a child."

"I can't either," he shook his head, "A terrible thing for anyone to have to go through."

"It just doesn't make sense," the doctor said.

"What?" Ben asked, not really looking over at the doctor.

"Why would the assassin to a Cardassian diplomat then turn; kill the doctor and try to kill the patients?" Julian asked.

"I don't know," Ben shrugged, "I really don't know. Has the autopsy revealed anything into Dummat's murder?"

"I haven't had the time," he apologized, "I had a family to try to save."

"Gotcha."

* * *

"Anything else I can do before I leave?" the nurse asked, looking up from the microscope towards Bashir.

"No," he said, shaking his head, "You can leave now."

"Good night then," she said, putting down her stuff and walking towards the doors. She slowed to a stop as the door opened and turning to him said, "You did your best doctor."

"But it wasn't enough," he shook his head.

The nurse dropped her head slightly and left, the doors sliding closed behind her.

"Now time for the autopsy," he murmured.

"No," he sighed, feeling a wave of dizziness hitting him, "I'll do it later. I need to sleep."

He slowly walked towards the chair, and sat down. Despite having released Mrs. Riker to her ship, he would never climb up into a bio-bed. Nor would he go take the long journey back to his own quarters. He would sleep here; in his private domain.

His eyelids grew heavy, and soon, he was fast asleep.

* * *

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Bashir awoke with a start. In his dream, he had envisioned assassins crawling into the air ducts above his room. Assassins with knives tipped in poison. But, it had only been a dream. No one could fit into those air ducts.

He closed his eyes, and was about to fall back asleep when he heard a scuffing. _Above him?_ Impossible. There was a thud and he leapt up. He ran to the counter and grabbed a hypospray. Wielding it like a phaser, he crept towards the vents. No one was going to take him unawares in his own sickbay.

Then, the grates begin to budge and move off its plating. It was like an old Earth horror film he had seen as a child. Who knew what would fall out of there.

Suddenly, a boot stuck itself out of the hole. Then two stuck out. With a rush and a thump, came falling a thick body of grey skin and black hair. Bashir grabbed him by the shoulder, holding the hypospray like a knife. He turned him over and to his surprise, the man said in a weak voice.

"My dear doctor, there is hope for you yet."

Bashir let him drop to the ground in shock and demanded, "What are you doing here Garak? And what's happened to you?"

"No time for bantering doctor," Garak replied, struggling to stand, "As for your questions, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me," Bashir said, grabbing the heavy man and helping his stand.

"I tried to make a move on a Bajoran prostitute and so she decided to try to kill me," Garak grimaced as Bashir's hands moved over burned skin and broken ribs, "She threw me in a chemical fire."

"Another lie?" Bashir retorted, sitting him down in his chair.

"My dear doctor," Garak's eyes widened in shocked indignation, "What do you mean by that?"

"I know your taste in women," Bashir waved a hand, "And Bajorans don't make the cut. And, you would have killed her with little remorse if she had tried such a thing."

"Then what do you believe I am doing here?" he asked, acting intrigued by the Doctor's logic.

"Three Cardassians are dead in my sickbay," Bashir said, holding up a finger for each poin the made, "A baby is dead. The killer can't be found. And you just happen to show up. And, you're a member of the Obsidian Order."

Garak's eyebrows raised. "My good doctor. It seems I taught you all too well. And," he said, standing with a effort, "I must see the body of Dummat."

"I was going to do an autopsy," Bashir said, throwing his arm around Garak's shoulder, helping him stand.

""If what I suspect is true," Garak muttered, "You will have more then an autopsy on your hands."

"What?" Bashir said, but Garak shook his head.

"Just get me to the body."

Bashir led him to the stasis chamber and pushed a button. The doors retracted and out slid the preserved corpse of Dummat. His chest, even though cleaned, still looked horrible with it's burned mark. The shot that had killed him had entered there.

Garak grabbed the side of the bed and using his fingers began to prod at the lips. Then, he tilted the head ever so slightly back and forced the lips open and looked inside. He then raised the blanket and felt the region of the chest, moving the practiced hands in various places. Then, after maybe a minute or two, he looked up at the doctor and gave a maniacal smile.

"This is no Cardassian," he smiled like a beast having found it's prey.

"What?" Bashir gasped.

"I wasn't sent by the Order or even the High Command," Garak said, "I had sources though that said that the Dummat we were sending to talk to the Federation wasn't the real thing. I didn't believe it; until my source pointed out that, first off, his walk wasn't exactly Cardassian. Close, but off. I went to stop him, but, there were others that wanted to kill him."

"Why?" Bashir asked, "Why kill Dummat?"

"I guess you haven't learned as much as I once thought," Garak chided, "Think about it Doctor. Isn't the timing of the assassination perfectly coincidental? And that the killers just happened to mysteriously vanish, unable to be found by the crew?"

"They are wanting Cardassia to keep out of the Federation," Bashir gasped., "Divide us and destroy the peace."

"And defame Riker," Garak prodded on, "Isn't it amazing that one of Starfleets' most iconic captains is out of the way? There will be war."

"But who did you get all this from?" Bashir asked, "It couldn't have been just anybody. Who gave it to you? And who exactly were the killers?"

"I will let my source speak for itself," Garak said, and tapped a red band at his elbow.

Bashir didn't have time to ask what he was doing before the watch began to melt of his hand and began to transform. The glob twisted and turned and vibrated as it took shape. And, before he knew it, the rough likeness of a human body was standing before him.

"Hello Doctor," Odo smiled, "Nice to see you again."


	11. Rumors of War

**Chapter 11: Rumors of War**

"Invasion?" Ross asked, his eyes widening, "Are you sure about that?"

"Once in the Link," Odo said, sitting at the long table, turned to the screen where Ross and Picard could be seen, "There can be no lying to one another. It is impossible."

"How long has this been planned?" Picard asked, looking worried.

"There has been talk for roughly two years," he replied, "But, they haven't been able to attain the needed allies until recently."

"Whom may they be?"

"They kept me shut out from those discussions," Odo responded, shaking his head, "Although I don't know exact details, I know what I have spoken is true."

The room fell silent. For ten years there had been general peace. Excepting Shinzon's incursions, there had been no major conflicts. Why would the Dominion want to go to war, so soon after the defeat of 2375?

"That is no good," Ross shook his head, "The Federation Council has decided that the main of the Fleet should go to Vulcan and Earth for reasons that neither Picard or myself know of. The only ships not being assigned there are the _Invincible_ and _Titan_."

"What about the new _Defiant_ model?" Kira spoke up.

"Mr. O'Brian assures me it shall be space worthy within a fortnight," Picard answered, leaning forward, "But, if they plan to strike anytime soon, we won't be able to help."

"In other words," Ben spoke from a corner edge of the table, "We are on our own."

Ross laced his fingers together and sighed. "I'm afraid so. Up top has decided to circumvent our authority."

"Understood," Kira nodded.

"One last thing before we leave," Picard turned to Ben, "Sisko. You might be pleased to know that your rank is still in effect. As such, we shall be giving you the _Defiant Mark II_. Perhaps some poetic justice."

Benjamin nodded with a small smile. "Thank you sir."

"Starfleet out," Ross said, and the screen replaced their faces with the emblem of the Federation.

"Good grief," Bashir groaned, "We're on our own. With an imminent invasion on our hands."

"Like old times," Ben said with black humor, "We all know too well what will happen."

"Well," Kira said, swinging her chair around, "I guess we need to get prepared. You all know what to do. Dismissed."

There was some commotion as they all rose from their chairs to move.

"Odo," she called out, "Remain."

Odo looked down at his feet before bringing his eyes to meet hers. "Alright General."

Bashir and Ben exchanged glances as they headed off. Through the doors they went, and the door slid shut behind them. Kira sat, turned to Odo.

"You've been avoiding me since you got back two days ago," she remarked, "I've tried to get in touch with you."

"Sorry about that," he muttered, "Is there a problem with that?"

Kira frowned slightly, "Not really. I just…."

"Just what?" Odo asked as her voice trailed off.

"I wanted to know where we still stood with things," she said, trying not to get frustrated.

"I don't know what you mean," Odo said, raising his head up like an aristocrat of old Earth around someone of lesser stature.

"I've loved you every day since you left," Kira said, standing up and moving slowly with each word, "I've counted the distance, and watched the wormhole open; hoping that each time would bear you back home. Now, you're a person I don't know."

"A lot can change with a decade," Odo remarked.

"Not everything," she replied, now standing by him.

She raised a hand to his cheek, to hold it in her palm. But, he closed his eyes and took a step sideways. Her eyes slowly welled up in tears that would go unshed, and turned from him, saying, "I guess all things do change."

With that, Odo left the room, leaving her alone. Alone, to the thoughts of sorrow that threaten to engulf the heart of all spurned lovers.


	12. Fortunes of Admiralty

**Chapter 12: Fortunes of Admiralty**

Romulus. Proud home world of the all-mighty Romulan Star Empire. The envy of many systems and powers. The sum of absolute power.

And no one understood that power more than Sela. She had assassinated, murdered, seduced and bribed her way to the position she now held. Admiral Sela, consort of the Praetor; strode imperiously across the bridge of the _Scorpio_, a Scimitar-Class warship. Her ruthlessness was just as well known as her pride. Quick to anger, and quick to reward, many rumored that if one could please her through deeds, they would be pleased by her herself.

_Ridiculous_, she thought scornfully, _I only sleep with those more powerful then I am._

She could be friendly, to be sure, but, none was as powerful then her husband; Praetor Nizro. Just one night could pass, and she could be the sole ruler of the Romulan Empire. A single kiss disguising a blade, and he would be dead. But, the time was not right.

"I will be in my quarters," she smirked, turning from the command chair and striding out of the room. The hallways on the Scimitar were massive compared to the Warbirds, and many more crew were at her immediate disposal. As she walked, hands behind her back, chest thrust out, chin held high, the crew moved aside as she passed, saluting her as she passed.

Her quarters themselves were a chamber of grandeur. It was devoid though of the vain items of women. She was a military commander; plain and simple. The only vanity she possessed was a small mirror. Beyond that, she had star charts, communication consoles, and so much more of the same.

She touched the console, and the screen turned on, and it barked out, "Incoming Transmission."

"Whom is it from?" she asked, undressing as she did. The one thing she could not tolerate was how hot it could get on this ship.

"Senator Sehral," the computer replied and Sela smirked.

"Patch it through," she commanded and the face of a bearded senator came through, looking impatient.

"What is it?" she demanded.

"You certainly took your time," he grumbled, "I've been waiting for nearly an hour now."

"Watch your tongue or I will watch it for you," she snapped, and he slowly nodded, taking a lustful glance at her and she snarled, "Keep your eyes in your head, or I will keep them."

"What do you want?" she repeated the question, growing impatient with the fool.

"Horoscope," he said.

It was merely one word, but, only seven in the entire Empire knew the Earth word. She shut off the computer immediately and touching a com, she commanded they return to the Council Chamber.

"Any reasons?" her second in command asked.

"It will be revealed in due time," she snapped, "Just do your duty Centurion."

* * *

She strode into the corridor outside the Senate chamber, her guards blasting away the two royal guards standing in front of the Chamber doors. They had no need to suspect anything, so could not react when their Empress' guards blasted them. She threw open the doors, and the guards in the chamber turned, raising their guns. But, they were taken down, along with any of the Senate not dropping to the floor as prearranged.

Almost as soon as it began, it was over. The guards and Senators laid on the ground, chunks of their bodies blown away. And, in the direct middle of the room, was the Praetor sitting stunned as the sheer implications were made painfully clear.

"You don't plan on hurting me my wife?" he asked, terror for the first time seizing him.

"I'm not going to hurt you, my husband," she said, embracing him in a kiss, then taking the knife hidden in her sleeve, slipped it out and stabbed him in the back, digging and twisting, feeling the blood splatter over her hand.

"I never said I wouldn't kill you," she whispered in his ear as he slumped forward and fell to the ground.

She turned from him and looking to the six senators said, "Arise, and worship Empress Sela, the first and sole leader of the Empire."

They slowly arose from the ground, their faces breaking in bloodthirsty smiles. This had been a great day in their lives. She turned to the large view screen and shouted, "I want the entire Romulan Empire."

* * *

On every screen of every ship, home or building throughout the Empire flickered and the face of the human-Romulan hybrid woman appeared. People stopped to look, cooks left their food unattended as it burned. Soldiers and officers stopped their duties to see.

"People of the Romulan Empire. It is with sadness that I must speak to you this day. Our Praetor Nizro is dead.

"Yes, dead. How? Murder. Who would do such a thing you might ask? Klingons!

"But do not blame the crime on them. They were only doing the bidding of their masters, the Federation. Yes, the Federation scum has ordered the Klingon dogs to turn upon allies!

"But, the plot thickens. My personal spies in the Federation has given me disturbing news. This murder was only the beginning. The Empire has been promised to be split between these two powers. The day of retribution has come. Time to end our alliance with the Federation. We must conquer to survive!

"Death to the Federation! Death! We shall drink their blood and feast on their carcasses!"

* * *

The screen flickered and the emotionless face of a woman speared, wearing a simple pink dress. "Well?"

"The deed is done," the Senator smiled, "Praetor Nizro is dead."

"Very good," the female said with a nod, "We shall begin transporting our people onto your ships. Two for a ship. They shall look like Borg; to throw off anyone thinking we are involved."

"Yes Founder," the Senator nodded, "It should be most interesting. And what of your other ally? May I know whom they are yet?"

"Do not worry," she smiled, "the time comes soon, that the Federation and Klingon Empire must fall. Strength and honor and glory to our union. I pledge that there will be no rest until we have conquered…or been conquered."


	13. Behind the Scenes

**Behind the Scenes**

I have always grown up with the _Original Series_ and _The Next Generation_. I had seen a few clips from episodes that were from _Voyager, Deep Space Nine_ and _Enterprise_. But, it wasn't until I returned from a religious mission that I ever saw all the series in their complete glory. It was as I was finishing _Deep Space Nine_ for the first time and saddened by the end of the great show, I thought to myself, "What would happen if Sisko came back ten years in the future?"

And thus my first sci-fi fan-fic story that diverted away from Star Wars. And I must say, I was proud with the results. It became quite popular on the Omega Sector message boards that I originally posted it on.

First off, I completed this story nearly two years ago. There is almost nothing that's changed from that time besides fixing a few typo errors. Those familiar with my _Babylon 5 Alternative Universe _will recognize the lack of details I put into the story, and the writing is not up to par. That's because my writing two years ago was still developing, and while my newer stuff is of a better quality, by no means does my B5 or SW stories share the same superior quality I have given to my original writings, like my alternative histories or my original fantasy stories.

Anyways, I have always hated _Endgame_, the last episode of _Voyager_. That was the cheapest cop-out that I've seen in a long time. Destroying the Borg and getting home within only seven years? Come now. That's pretty bad even by many standards of terribleness. Shall we say they jumped the shark? So, I thought, what if the Borg and the Dominion both invaded the Alpha Quadrant at the same time?

The Dominion is a faction built upon war. So, why would the Dominion just accept a lost war? Even without the morale loss to the entire Dominion, the Founders lost face. Sooner or later, the Founders, being self-proclaimed Gods, would want to regain their lost image.

Okay, so there is no Borg appearing in _By the Hands of the Prophets_. But, the warnings are still there, and we knew Sisko would be coming back. So, he could get revelatory insight into what was going on. We also knew the Picard still had a mental link with the Borg. Problem was...how strong was the link really? We know that the Borg Queen wanted Locutus as a mate of sorts. Where was he really destined? So many questions left unanswered that needed exploring.

Now, as Sisko comes back, ten years have passed. How would things be different? Because they would. Originally Quark was going to still be on DS9. But, partially due to laziness, he got written out. But also, my writing style goes like this. While I have a general idea of how I'd like the story to go, I believe that the characters and story can tell themselves. So, I let the story tell itself. It ends up in many ways more superior then anything I could have imagined.

My belief is that the Romulans ended the Dominion War in a much superior position then their neighbors in the Alpha Quadrant. And who better to take advantage of the Romulan political nature and imperialistic plans then Sela, who outwitted Picard and was only beaten by an android who for once went against his programming and disobeyed a direct order. Sela had always been a favorite of mine.

Will Jake and Quark appear in the story at all? They might appear sooner or later, but I am currently in book three, and they still haven't made an appearance. Again, the story just won't let them out.

So...going back to the original point, if the Borg are still out and about, did Janeway really get back? And if she hasn't, then who would really be there? An alternative version? A copy, such as in the episode where _Voyager_ ends up in two different complete copies?

So, what class of ship would be _Invincible_? Starfleet has been at war for many years, and they were already beginning to create warships. That's why I decided to create Invincible. My belief is that the Invincible would need to be a warship, and Picard would be behind the creation. He has a clearer sight in my mind of what is the real picture of what's going on.

Adam Tryke is one of the few characters that is not a real Star Trek character. I created him one of several possibilities of who I would be in the Star Trek universe. I could see myself being a cocky human in prison. Partly because I'm not cocky nor have I been in prison in my entire life. Originally though, I wrote the scene of Picard seeing him to be him in solitary confinement, and he has a unique ability to know when he's being watched. The scene though made many historical references that unless the reader was very historically inclined, they would never get. So, I decided to scrap the scene entirely and rewrite it. It resulted in the mess hall, and a Nausican.

Anyways, as always, thanks for reading my story.


End file.
